Second Chance
by CorprallFrond
Summary: The sequel to Second Meeting. AU verse. Sherlock and John were best friends, and almost more, in high school. So what happens when they meet again? Follows the plot of the Blind Banker. Eventual Johnlock.
1. A new case

**Well, here's the first chapter. I finally came up with a title, but I'm not really crazy about it. I'll probably go back and change it later. And this time I promise there will be a progression of John and Sherlock's relationship. Please review I love to hear your thoughts.**

**Disclaimer; I own nothing. **

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This wasn't exactly how Sherlock had expected his day to go when he woke up, but not a lot of people wake up and think 'Hey I'm going to going to fight a guy armed with a sword in my living room'. The heavily robed figure moved towards Sherlock slashing at him with his curved sword. Sherlock backed up carefully and ducked this way and that to avoiding the man's blows. He backed Sherlock up to the sofa and took another swing. Sherlock ducked, ending up sitting on the sofa. The man lifted the sword with both hands high above his head preparing to strike. Sherlock leaned back kicking him hard in the chest sending him back stumbling across the room. Sherlock stood taking a moment to straighten him jacket. He really hoped the man didn't ruin it, this one was his favorite. With that Sherlock charged across the room.

The man slashed his sword backing Sherlock up toward the kitchen table. Thankfully he (well actually John) had cleared it off earlier. Sherlock placed a firm grip on his wrist as the man pushed him back against the table forcing the blade to the detective's throat. Sherlock grimaced in an effort to push the man away and preserve his neck. The point of the sword dug into the table next to Sherlock's face. Sherlock lifted his leg kneeing the man in the side several time till his grip weakened enough that Sherlock could force him back. The sword gouged a long slash across the top of the table. Dame, Sherlock mentally cursed, John would have his head for that plus Mrs. Hudson would take it out of his rent.

Sherlock was on his feet again back to the living room. The robed man made another slash at Sherlock who duck quickly righting himself again. Well, it looked like this would have to be solved the old fashioned way. Sherlock pointed over the man's shoulder.

"Look!"

The man was already half turned in that direction with the back swing of his next blow. Sherlock thought that maybe the fire's reflection in the mirror contributed to distracting him, or at least he hoped that no one would be stupid enough to fall for this trick. In all honesty Sherlock never expected the man to look, which he did. Sherlock swung a powerful uppercut, and the man dropped unconscious into Sherlock's armchair. Sherlock took another minute to straighten himself up. He looked at the man in disdain. He had torn the sleeve of Sherlock's favorite jacket.

It was some time later that John came back home from the shop by then Sherlock had straightened up the room and changed his jacket. Sherlock had picked up a book about bees that he had found in an antique bookstore from some out-of-the-way place. John came up the stair, and Sherlock could hear him stopping just in the doorway.

"You took your time." Sherlock said without looking up for his book. It was just getting to the part about the stingless bees of the Mayan's.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping." Sherlock looked up at John indignantly over his book.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I had a row," John had a row? With who? Sherlock couldn't think of anyone more agreeable than John (most of the time). "In the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine." John said irate.

"You ... you had a row with a machine? Sherlock asked lowering his book.

"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" Sherlock held back an amused smirk and nodded to the kitchen.

"Take my card." John walked into the kitchen over to the table where Sherlock had left his wallet, but stopped short turning to Sherlock.

"You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left." Sherlock thought back to the fight with the robed swordsman. Sherlock tried to remain nonchalant just turning a page. John searched through his wallet looking for a card.

"And what happened about that case you were offered – the Jaria Diamond?"

"Not interested." Sherlock said slipping a scrap of paper in the book to mark his page, and shutting it with a loud snap. The detective glanced down realising that the attacker's sword was still lying underneath his chair in plain view. If John found out about the brawl he had in the flat only minutes ago he'd be furious. Sherlock quickly slammed his foot down on the end sliding the sword out of sight.

"I sent them a message." Sherlock said firmly. John pulled out the card but paused to look at the new deep gouge in the table. John ran a finger over the mark. Sherlock heard him sigh and mutter something under his breath but couldn't tell what he said. He looked pointedly across the room at Sherlock who just shook his head innocently. John turned leaving down the stairs. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. So close, John. It was amazing how wonderfully unobservant people could be.

John staggered up the stair his arm full with the shopping. Sherlock knew he should get up and help, but..it..was..so...far away. John could take care of the shopping anyway.

"Don't worry about me. I can manage." Sherlock just tuned him out not sparing him a glance focusing on his inbox. Sherlock unconsciously folded his hand in front of his mouth the gesture so familiar he did it without thinking. Sebastian Wilkes, of all people, had emailed him. Sherlock was surprise at seeing that name in his inbox. Sherlock skimmed through the email. Blah, blah blah, something about not seeing each other in a long time. There was a reason for that. Then how he heard that Sherlock had become a consultant blah blah there had been an incident at the bank he worked at. Finally, something interesting. He should have said so outright, and got to the point.

"Is that my computer?" John asked from the kitchen. Sherlock didn't look up just begun typing his reply.

"Of course."

"What!?"

"Mine was in the bedroom." Sherlock said simply.

"What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up?" Sherlock didn't answer just to show him how little he could be bothered. "It's password protected!" John said indignantly.

"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." Sherlock glanced up at John from his typing. "Not exactly Fort Knox."

"Right thank you." John huffed annoyed. John reached over slamming the lid down and taking the laptop. Sherlock barely moved his fingers in time. John sat down in his chair putting the computer on the floor next to him. John picked up the pile of bill from the counter and frowned flicking through them. "Oh, Need to get a job."

"Oh, dull." Sherlock said only half listening. John looked back and forth from the mail to Sherlock finally he sighed leaning forward in his chair.

" Listen, um ... if you'd be able to lend me some ..." Sherlock didn't hear his friend off in his own world. "Sherlock, are you listening?"

"I need to go to the bank." Sherlock said without turning around. Sherlock without another word got up from his chair heading to the door grabbing his coat on the way.


	2. Yet another reunion

**Once again I'm sorry for the wait. My computer broke and I've been reluctant to do any writing on my mom's. Still it's no excuse. Please don't hate me. **

**Disclaimer; I own nothing.**

**Please review.**

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Sherlock walked through old broad street briskly leading John through the revolving glass door into Shad Sanderson Bank. John stared around them clearly impressed, but Sherlock was dreading this visit far too much to pay any mind to architecture.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank ..." Sherlock ignored John getting onto the escalator taking in everything around him taking special note of security system. As they reached the top Sherlock walked over to the receptionist's desk.

"Sherlock Holmes."

They were soon ushered into Sebastian's office. It wasn't long till the man himself showed his face walking in with a grin. God, Sherlock hated that man. He was an annoying two-faced git who hated Sherlock until he needed something. Something which hadn't seemed to change much.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sebastian." Sherlock said as the other man clasped his outstretched hand with both of his.

"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sherlock eyed the man with only marginally disguised dislike. Sebastian turned to look at John like he was surprised to see anyone with Sherlock.

"This is my _colleague_ John Watson."

"Colleague?" He asked latching onto the emphasized word. Sherlock imagined he was wondering how he got someone to work with him.

"Friend." John corrected firmly and Sherlock couldn't help but feel a well of affection for John for standing up for him.

"Right." The banker said shaking John's hand and eyeing him curiously. "Right." He repeated. He threw a brief look at Sherlock as if saying 'Didn't know you had a friend.' Grinning unpleasantly he scratched his neck and Sherlock's eye was drawn to his watch. The time was off. As he turned away John scowled at the man apparently taking an instant dislike to the man. Not surprising the man was an utter git.

"Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"

"No." John said and Sherlock just shook his head.

"No?" He turned to his secretary. "We're all sorted here, thanks." The woman walked out and Sebastian took a seat in his chair with Sherlock and John sitting opposite him.

"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot."

"Well some."

"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?" John frowned in confusion, but Sebastian just laughed and pointed a finger at him.

"Right. You're doing that thing." he looked at John. "We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick." Sherlock said quietly.

"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story."

"Yes, I've seem him do it."

"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him." Sherlock turned for a minute to hide the pain on his face. Even after all these years the memories still got to him. Pathetic.

"Yes, I know that too. I went to high school with him. I think it's a pity that people didn't get along with him. I mean if they could get over themselves and see that Sherlock's brilliant. After all that's why you asked him to come here right?" Sherlock stared at John aghast, but quickly composed himself. Sebastian's jaw clenched as he realized that John had back him into a corner forcing him to acknowledge Sherlock's cleverness.

"Yes, of course he's brilliant. That's why I asked him here." John's face didn't change as he just stared at Sebastian stony-faced. The banked turned to Sherlock. "I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in." Sebastian said getting and up leading them across the trading floor. Sherlock looked at John who just smiled at him from the side of his mouth. Sherlock nodded at his friend thankful he was here to take up for him.

"Sir William's office – the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night." Sebastian said bring them out of their silent conversation.

"What did they steal?"

"Nothing. Just left a little message."

He swiped his security card against the reader unlocking the door. the first thing visible when the door opened was a portrait hanging on the plain white wall behind the large desk of a man in a suit – presumably the late Sir William Shad himself. On the wall someone had tagged what looked like an 8, but the top of the number was left open with a horizontal line over the top. The same yellow paint was slashed across the eyes of the portrait. Sebastian leaded the way towards the desk and then stepped aside to allow Sherlock a clear view of the wall. Sherlock looked at it closely.

It wasn't just vandalism obviously. The person wasn't an artist obvious from the fact he over sprayed the line making it drip down the portrait. No 'artist' wroth his paint would make that mistake. Not to mention who in their right mind would break into a highly secure bank to vandalize a portrait. No, there was something more going on here. John moved to stand on the other side of Sebastian, who looked at Sherlock expectantly. Well, one thing was certain, this was a message.


	3. I can't think of a title right now

**To make up for the wait here's another chapter. Please review.**

**Disclaimer; I own nothing.**

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The three men stood back in Sebastian's office huddled around the computer screen. The screen showed the security footage from the night of the break in. Sherlock stared at it intently making sure he didn't miss a thing.

"Sixty seconds apart." Sebastian said flipping back and forth through the frames on the security footage. The still taken at 23:34:01 which showed the paint on the wall and on the portrait, and a minute earlier – 23:33:01 – when the wall and portrait were still clean.

"So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute." Sebastian concluded.

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting."

They went back to the reception area. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder why all this walking back and forth was necessary. Was it to hard to just spit it out? Then again John would say he was being hypocritical seeing as Sherlock's flare for the dramatics. Sebastian called up a lay out of the trading floor and surrounding offices onto the monitor. Lights indicated the security status of the doors.

"Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet." Crime is like an equation if you have the right factor, and take note of the details you can find the answer to any- wait that door didn't open... Well to hell with that theory.

"That door didn't open last night." Sherlock stated. That would considerably shorten his lead list. Something that was both good and bad.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you – five figures." Sebastian pulled a check from his breast pocket. "This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way."

"I don't _need_ an incentive, Sebastian." Sherlock hissed. God, he hated that man. The detective turned stalking off.

Sherlock went back to Sir William's office, and to taking pictures of the graffiti with his mobile. Once they got home he could cross reference the graffiti with sources off the internet and from books. Sherlock took one last picture before turning to look a the floor-to-ceiling windows that took up the right wall. He looked over the impressive view of the Swiss Re Tower.

Sherlock looked away frowning for a minute. No, there was no way. The whole idea was extremely improbably, but ... not impossible. The detective walked to the window pulling up the blinds to reveal a door leading to a small balcony. Sherlock walked out ignoring the beautiful view of London in favor of peering over the edge at the long drop to the ground. He looked sideways along the edge of the balcony and bit his lip thoughtfully before heading inside the office again.

Sherlock had moved back to the trading room floor. He thanked God that there were pillars, or it would make thing a lot harder. Sherlock moved across the room ducking behind a desk then rising upright again while he stared hard at the glass door to Sir William's office. He ducked sideways and scampered across the trading floor. One on the traders stood peeking over his cubical at Sherlock with bemusement. Sherlock continued his process of ducking moving and bobbing across the room as more and more people began to watch. The detective tuned them out. This was not a time for him to become modest. Sherlock bobbed his way over to a doorway and paused as he realized he may be onto something. He moved back into the office and behind the desk putting his head exactly where the other persons head would be. From there he had a clear view of Sir William's office and the fresh, new paint job of the picture. Sherlock moved sideways to confirm that this was the only spot that the damaged portrait could be seen from. It was. Sherlock walked back out of the office stopping at the door reading the name, Edward Van Coon, Hong Kong desk head. He slid the name out of the holder and headed off. He had all he needed at the moment.

Sherlock walked back through the office toward the escalators John quickly joining him at his side.


End file.
